I think about death.
And when I take my last breath.
Will someone be there.
Or will I die all alone.
Sitting in my easy chair.

No, I never stay long
but you'll always know where I've been.
You'll hear my favorite song
and feel my presence within.

I've been so many new places,
an extensive list of things to do-
always leaving my traces,
Maybe one day you'll stand in my point of view.

Clover patches spawn on the outside
whenever I show up anew.
Do they remind you of times
when I've lied,
or all the silly dreams I confided in you?

I always seem to leave my mark,
flecks of green where they ought not be.
Bright neons light up the dark,
recentering some focus back to me.

Or maybe it's more of a haunting-
to be reminded of my soul,
to always be found is so daunting
when vanishing fully has been my goal.

What if I don’t want to be remembered?
I want to fade away in the void.
All evidence lost in the embers,
my sounds fading into background noise.

It’s not really me they hold close,
just a version that once was truth-
a humorously passionate nostalgic dose,
forgetting how I’m so uncouth.

I don’t want to be a good memory,
for those I’m trying to forget,
a snippet when I was the remedy
until I only made them upset.

Now I live in signs,
subtly in dreams,
even déjà vu at times-
things aren’t always as they seem.

If I am to be unforgettable,
if I must cross your mind,
I hope the thought is regrettable,
and slowly eats at you for a period of time.

To haunt is to be haunted,
and tortured I have been-
false futures, I’ve been taunted,
clearing caches within.

Never once have I destroyed a
pathway completely,
but this one must come down.
I’m drunk and rambling quite indiscreetly,
and your memory makes me frown.

I hope the thought of me spoils your day,
stirred up from a simple coffee -
looped in remembrance like
cursed decay,
and I the leading zombie.

When you look back?
Yes, there be a few regrets.
Yes, when you look back?
Some of us must accept or admit being young and dumb.

Either having a child to early.
Or learning from our mistakes.
The stupidity of youth we all essentially make.

Wisdom sometimes comes with time.
Well, for a few.
But that's what getting older sometimes will do.

The famous athletes learn lessons the hard way.
Many celebrities the same way.
Even inmates serving time for the county or the state.
Our stupidity of youth, is a learning lesson.

Which eventually some never master.

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Will you love me anyway if I told you about my scars?
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Will you love me anyway if I told you about my eating disorder?
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Will you love me anyway if I told you about my father?
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Will you love me anyway if I told you about my OCD?
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Will you love me anyway if I told you about how they ruined my trust?
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Will you love me anyway if I told you about my trust issues?
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Will you love me anyway if you knew about my anger issues?
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Will you love me anyway if you knew about my mood swings?
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Will you love me anyway?
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